Comedy exists in the unthinkable. The unimaginable. But most importantly, the ordinary.
What is it, otherwise, that makes the situation of a somnambulist or recently wakened, bleary eyed, rumple-haired human, hollering at the top of its lungs, holding its spectacles in one hand and searching for them with the other, so uproariously funny?
What endears the gurgling, tiny bundle of flesh to us so much as it laughs at its mother and cries at its father, that we split our sides in hysterics?
Why is it that breaking china becomes more of a joy than a profound sorrow when one is with company?
What tickles your innards when you see a dog chase its tail when it could simply be denounced as mad?
Why does the toddler’s fascination with lemon, which sours its taste buds, intrigues its mind and distorts its facial features never fail to elicit laughter?
The answer, my friend, lies in the first line of this article.
What one often forgets while going through the motions of life, going through motions, I say, not living, because we forget to laugh, is the comedy our monotonous looking lives yield, and the immense joy they can harness. You may not live a life with the comic timing of Chaplin or Laurel & Hardy and you may not find yourselves in such tangles as Jerome K. Jerome’s ‘Three Men In A Boat’, yet, simply realizing that every moment is worth living, and better yet, smiling, stands you up against an array of beautiful, if not comical, experiences that are worth revisiting in the galleys of memory.
Was it not some comedy that you, yourself were born? Is it not by some comedy that you continue to breathe and grapple at money? Is not there comedy in the various faces you give birth to while trying on a shoe two sizes smaller than your own?
Look for that comedy, friend. Laugh and, as Ben Jonson says, be fat sir, fat, with the layers of joy and childlike innocence protecting your soul.